Larry's Penis In My Hand 1

Larry's prick felt hot in my hand, and I studied it because it was different from mine. His warm fingers were wrapped around mine, and the excitement was electric. We were doing something supremely arousing, and really enjoying it. Larry was my age, mid-30s, and we'd known each other for years. In fact, we and our wives had often had dinner together, eating out or at one of our homes. The irony came that both marriages broke apart, and our final divorce decrees took place on the same day. Luckily, we'd had no children.

I'd taken a small apartment when my wife and I split, and so had Larry. As usual in divorce settlements our wives had gotten the houses, and Larry and I were commiserating in my apartment, over a six-pack of beer.

"I'm glad to be free," Larry said. "Despite all the shit you hear on these TV psych-doctor shows, divorce wasn't a trauma for me. It was a release from the hell my marriage had become." I understood exactly what he meant because I felt the same way.

"My marriage was horrible too at the end," I said. We should never have gotten married in the first place. My feeling was that I'd rather be alone the rest of my life than continue with her. It was that bad." Larry looked at me and shook his head.

"Well, I feel good because I've got my freedom," he concluded. "Now I can do things I'd only thought of when I was married. I'm really better off now."

"You're right," I agreed. "I feel the same way."

"Now I can experiment. I can try things I'd just been dreaming about since I was a teen-ager."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like sex with a man," Larry answered. "Does that shock you? I'd been wondering what it would be like to jack another guy's cock while he was jacking mine. There, I've said it. What do you think now? Do you want me just to get the fuck out of here?" I was surprised, not so much by what he'd admitted was his dream, but that he thought I might reject him for it.

"No, Larry, no, not at all," I reassured him. "To tell you the truth, I'd been thinking that way myself. Even as a teen-ager, I'd wondered about that, but was afraid to try it because others would have called me a queer. Anyway, I was afraid to ask anyone, even friends, because I didn't know what they'd think."

"I was afraid of the same thing," he said. "I thought there might be at least one other guy who wanted to try it, but who? I didn't know who to ask. Oh, I could have gone to a gay bar in another city, maybe, but I'd heard some bad things about those places. I might catch a disease, or run into someone really unpleasant, maybe even get raped."

"That was the same with me," I said. "I can't imagine enjoying having some guy's prick up my ass, and if I ran into someone who wanted that, what could I do?"

"Well, I'm glad we cleared the air, Jack. I guess you're a real friend, someone I can trust." I was reassured by his expression of trust, and I felt this conversation had brought us really close.

"Look, let's not just talk about it," I urged. "Let's try it. Let's get naked and at least satisfy our curiosity. We might like it or might not, but at least we'll know." I stood and he did the same, tacitly agreeing. We were both about six feet, medium builds, but my hair was brown and he was blond. My eyes were brown, contrasting with his green eyes. His face was thinner than mine, and I had a square jaw. I went into the bedroom, and he followed. We began to strip down. When we dropped our pants I saw we were both wearing boxers. When we lowered our boxers, our eyes were fixed avidly on each other's crotches. "You've got a nice head on yours," I commented. Larry indeed had a large and beautifully shaped helmet type glans, pinkish-purple. "Yeah but yours has skin over it," he said. Larry's helmet dangled at the end of his prick below a thick circular scar ring, where he'd been cut. Mine had a long tapered foreskin that bulged over the head and then tapered to a ling pendulous nipple. "How old were you when that happened?" I asked, pointing to his penis. "They did it to me when I was a baby. Lots of guys got clipped. How did you escape getting the chop?" "My parents didn't believe in it," I replied. "The doctor tried to sell them on it, but my father wasn't cut and they saw no reason why I should be." By this time we were both naked and our pricks had begun to swell from the excitement of the conversation. We sat on the edge of my queen-size bed next to each other as his eyes stared hungrily at my crotch. "Go ahead, you can touch it," I breathed softly. He reached out and clasped the nipple of my foreskin between thumb and index finger, pulling upward on it slightly. An electric thrill ran through me as his fingers contacted my penis. "I've always regretted not having one of these," he said as I began to squeeze his glans between two fingers. "Even as a kid, when I saw guys who still had their skins I wondered what mine would have been like if I hadn't been cut." "Lots of guys are cut," I said to try to reassure hm, but my words sounded hollow even to me. "That's no consolation. That's like saying if I were blind that others are blind too. Tell me what it's like," he asked. "What's it like having skin over the tip?"

"Well, you're finding out right now," I stated flatly. "Go ahead, see how it peels down when you push on my foreskin." Larry's prick was not fully hard, like mine, and the rim of his glans flared beautifully, standing out above the neck of his shaft. I kept gently squeezing the head.

"Each time you squeeze my tip I get a thrill deep inside," he said as he began to drag my foreskin downward. The nipple had expanded over the front of my helmet and had stretched to a dime-sized opening. "Man, your hole is just like mine." I looked at the front dome of his glans and saw that the lips of his slit had pouted the same way mine had.

"We've both got teardrop shaped holes," I commented. "I think when you pull my hood all the way down you'll find that our heads are the same shape."

"Your head's as big as mine," he said as he continued to drag my foreskin down. "It's more purple, and it's wet and shiny. Mine is dry and leathery." Now I closed my fingers around his shaft, still gently squeezing the tip with my thumb and forefinger.

"Our pricks are about the same size, six inches, and a bit on the thick size," I said.

"We've both got nice heads," he said as his warm fingers pulled my foreskin over the rim, and it snapped into the deep groove behind it. "Women like to feel a big head going in. Several women told me that."

"That's been my experience too," I agreed. "One woman told me that she'd had sex with a guy who had a small head on his prick, and it didn't feel as good as my big helmet stretching her." Now Larry leaned down, closer to my crotch, and inhaled deeply.

"I like the smell too," I admitted. "I make sure to rinse inside my foreskin every day when I shower though. If I don't, it can get pretty rancid."

"Hell, if I don't shower every day I don't smell good either, cock, balls, or armpits. I don't like smelling bad." I was glad he'd said that. I wasn't into dirty bodies either. Now his fingers were pulling down on my stretched-back foreskin, testing its flexibility.

"Anyway, most women smell worse than I ever did," I said.

"You're right about that," he added. "My wife wasn't too careful about keeping herself clean. At times she really smelled like a pig."

"You've got a very nice prick," I said sincerely. "It's straight, and it looks well-proportioned. Best of all, it feels good when someone's handling it doesn't it?" He looked up at me and smiled.